WHOM CALL WE GAY? WHOM call we gay? That honour has been long That dries his feathers, saturate with dew, But save me from the gaiety of those Whose headaches nail them to a noon-day bed; TRUE HAPPINESS. TRUE happiness has no localities, Where'er a tear is dried, a wounded heart -Course of Time. A COUNTRY LIFE. How sacred and how innocent From flattery or fears! This was the first and happiest life, Till pride exchangèd peace for strife, 'Twas here the poets were inspired, Here taught the multitude; The brave they here with honour fired, And civilised the rude. That golden age did entertain The thoughts of ruling and of gain Them that do covet only rest, Opinion is the rate of things, Because I think it so. When all the stormy world doth roar, How unconcern'd am I! I cannot fear to tumble lower, Secure in these unenvied walls, Silence and innocence are safe; A heart that's nobly true, That do the world subdue! THE MAIR THAT YE WORK, AYE THE MAIR WILL YE WIN. Be eident, be eident, fleet time rushes on; The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win. The earth gathers fragrance while nursing the flower, The wave waxes stronger while feeding the shower, The stream gains in speed, as it sweeps o'er the lin; The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win. There's nought got by idling, there's nought got for nought, Health, wealth, and contentment by labour are bought, In raising yoursel', ye may help up your kin; The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win. Let every man aim in his art to excel, The mair that ye work, aye the mair will ye win. JAMES BALLANTINE, 1808— NOTHING TO DO. NOTHING to do! Oh! away with such blindness; Plenty of work we may find if we will. "Work, work in earnest, be patient, be true." Nothing to do? Think you God, who created The winds and the waters, the birds and the flowers, Think, think you that He who their mission dictated Endow'd us in vain with such marvellous powers; No, no, in the roll and the rush of the river, The bloom of the flower and the song of the bird, The voice of Eternity echoeth ever, And "labour and love" the commands that are heard! |